


the world we live in

by writerforlife



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, I think Sam and Campbell being related can be used for so much drama, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Season/Series 01, and it shows, complicated relationships between brothers, football dudes being football dude, yes the elliot brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerforlife/pseuds/writerforlife
Summary: "'Well,” Sam says, his private smile becoming wry and knowing. “Welcome to the revolution, I guess.'"Alternatively: Sam and Grizz struggle to define themselves as the world around them crumbles and Campbell shows just how dangerous he can be.
Relationships: Campbell Eliot & Sam Eliot, Luke Holbrook & Gareth "Grizz" Visser, Sam Eliot/Gareth "Grizz" Visser
Comments: 18
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I miss this show so much and I'm watching it for, like, the fourth time right now. For everyone else who can't get this show out of their head, please enjoy! 
> 
> Please note that the graphic depictions of violence tag mostly applies to the second chapter! And please excuse any typos or mistakes, this fic was mainly written while I watched food network

They are, Grizz realizes one day, in the  _ during  _ of their story. 

Of course, the existence of  _ during  _ implies a before and an after. Before, during, after. They were different people when New Ham didn’t exist. They went to school. They went to parties. Grizz, personally, played a lot of football and smoked even more weed—he misses the good shit some hot guy from a town over would bring. 

It’s easy to forget all that, sometimes.

There was a before.

#

Gordie, Bean, Mickey, Becca, Kelly, Gwen, Sam. 

And himself, Grizz supposes. Eight people total is all they get. Statistically, there have to be more people who don’t support Campbell, Harry, and Lexie, but they’re sure as fuck being quiet about it. Grizz meets Sam’s eye across the table, and Sam offers a small, private smile. It cuts through the nervous lines that have made permanent residence on his face. Grizz wants to reach across the table and take his hand. He can’t, obviously.

Nobody but Becca knows that they’re dating. 

It’s not because of the baby—well, it’s not  _ not  _ about the baby, but it’s mainly about Campbell, which pisses Grizz off to no end. 

“He’ll hurt you,” Sam had said. “If he knows we’re together, he’ll hurt you.” 

And he’s right. Grizz knows that. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to hold Sam’s hand. 

“Well,” Gordie says. He opens his mouth to say something else, then shuts it.

“Well,” Kelly echoes. Nobody speaks. 

Nobody wants to say it: they’re fucked. 

“Well,” Sam says, his private smile becoming wry and knowing. “Welcome to the revolution, I guess.”

Everyone laughs nervously, and Sam winks at Grizz. The mood shifts; Grizz thinks,  _ I’m so glad that I found you _ , and wishes he could say it aloud. 

#

The revolution, it turns out, is boring as fuck. 

They meet at night, sometimes, but during the day, Grizz does… pretty much whatever he wants. Harry, Lexie, and Campbell got rid of Allie’s work schedule, so there are people lingering everywhere, drinking, looking at each other like someone else will have the answers. Grizz’s  _ whatever he wants _ ends up being gardening, reading, smoking, and hanging around the library to bother Sam. They walk home together one night. Grizz kicks an empty beer can—it knocks against even more cans. 

“This town is going to shit,” Grizz signs. 

Sam shrugs. “We’ll keep our heads down, like we have been.” 

“We’re gonna starve to death.” He knocks his shoulder against Sam’s. “I’ll protect you when the Walmart wars break out.”

“My hero.”

Nobody else is on the streets. Grizz could put his arm around Sam, pull him close for the rest of the walk. He doesn’t, because nobody is alone nowadays. The Guard is always somewhere, always watching and waiting. 

Sure enough, when they pass the coffee shop, Campbell, Harry, and Luke are sitting on the front porch. Harry and Luke are drinking coffee; Campbell has a beer. They watch Grizz and Sam pass. Luke’s face is drawn, tired. Harry looks high as fuck. Grizz drops his eyes, but Sam meets his brother’s eyes, his jaw clenched. Even with his head down, he can sense the tension between Campbell and Sam, a bomb bound to go off.

“Let’s go,” Sam mutters. 

Grizz looks back over his shoulder as they walk away. Harry and Luke are chatting again, but Campbell’s gaze follows them. A chill runs down Grizz’s spine, and he tries to tell himself it’s only the cold. 

#

Despite the chaos of everything around him, Sam has fallen into a nightly routine. 

Sam makes dinner while Grizz reads and Becca feeds the baby. The three of them eat together, sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting about their days. After, Grizz does the dishes while Becca showers and Sam puts Eden to bed. Once she’s down, the three of them meet back in the living room and watch Becca’s  _ The Office  _ DVDs. Sam’s seen the series at least three times over, but it never gets old, and he likes feeling Grizz’s chest shake as he laughs. He  _ likes _ being with his boyfriend and best friend—sometimes, he feels guilty for that, guilty for enjoying himself as the world crumbles around him. He says as much to Grizz one night before they go to bed. Tonight, he’s thinking of Campbell’s cold eyes, too, and the way hiis gaze bore into Grizz. 

“I know,” Grizz signs. “I felt that way back home, with…” His brow furrows before he says, while spelling clumsily, “Climate change. And gun violence. And everything. I felt like I didn’t have the right to enjoy myself when everything was wrong.”

“That’s sad,” Sam signs. 

“Yeah. I still feel like that sometimes. But we… we deserve to find happiness somewhere, right?”

Sam nods, then Grizz pulls him close, and then Grizz’s hands find the waistband of his boxers. Sam loses himself in Grizz, but when they fall back to the mattress, a thought lingers:

A reckoning is coming, and revolution or no revolution, they won’t be able to stop it.

#

The Guard comes to the library the next day. Sam watches them stride through the door like they fucking own the place, Jason, Clark, and Luke flanking Campbell. Sam swallows hard, trying to swallow his fear. He doesn’t like Jason or Clark. Not at all. He doesn’t know how he feels about Luke. Grizz says Luke doesn’t have a backbone. Sam knows Grizz is biased.

Campbell grins at him.

Sam keeps a knife in his underwear drawer that Grizz and Becca don’t know about. He wants it now, as Campbell touches the books and takes in the environment. He doesn’t think he could stab anyone, not even Campbell, but having the option would make him feel better. 

“What are you even doing here?” Campbell asks. 

“Research,” Sam signs. “Trying to get us home.”

“What’s so great about home?” 

Sam folds his arms over his chest. “What do you want?”

“Kelly said we should check in with your baby mama, see what she needs. I guess it’s, like, accomodation and shit. Harry likes Kelly, Kelly likes Becca, and so it goes.” 

“Why are you talking to me, then?” 

Campbell waved off the Guard, then leaned closer to Sam. “Because we both know that baby isn’t yours, Sam. No way you’d fuck her.”

Sam’s face burns red. He should be worried about his brother knowing the truth, but he didn’t like the way he grinned around the word  _ fuck _ , as if he knew  _ another _ secret. 

“Maybe I did,” Sam signs. He wants to wash his hands. “Becca needs more food. She’s hungry. And we could use any baby supplies the town has.”

“Noted,” Campbell says. He turns away.

This can’t be it, Sam thinks. There has to be something else coming. But Campbell is walking toward the door, rejoining the Guard, and maybe he’ll just leave, maybe this time—

Campbell turns.

“By the way,” he signs. “I saw you with Grizz.” 

Sam forces his face to say neutral. “And?” he replies.

Campbell shrugs, retracing his steps toward Sam. “Everyone is concerned about him. He didn’t seem happy that we stopped Allie and Will from ruining everything we’ve built.”

_ Everything we’ve built _ . All Campbell has built is chaos. Sam lifts his hands to reply, but Campbell shakes his head.

“For all of us to live, we have to get along,” Campbell signs. “I want to get along with you, with your stupid baby, even with Grizz. Understand?”

_ Do what I want you to do _ , Sam translates.  _ Or there will be consequences.  _ His thoughts flash to his childhood, where Campbell lurked in every shadow. He doesn’t want that again.

He can’t live with that again, not when he has so much to lose. 

“I understand,” he signs. 

When Campbell leaves the library, Sam sprints to the bathroom and vomits. 

#

At night, Sam is different. 

He’s quiet, Grizz notices, and still. Even if he can’t hear it, Sam still makes noise, and now that Grizz’s ASL has improved, Sam’s hands often fly between cooking and signing stories, a grin splitting his face. Tonight, though, he’s quiet, self-contained. Grizz watches him from the archway leading into the kitchen. Becca comes to his side, Eden cradled in her arms.

“Did something happen?” Grizz asks. 

“I don’t know,” Becca says softly. “But, um, he’d get like this on bad days. Back home. When, um… when Campbell…

Grizz thinks of nights spent in bed, the lights on, Sam haltingly telling him about years of emotional and physical abuse from his brother. He flexes his fist, wondering what it would feel like to hit Campbell, to lean into the jock stereotype—the whole  _ you hurt my girlfriend, I hurt you  _ vibe. Except he has a boyfriend, and they’re in an alternate universe where the dickhead he wants to punch is a psychopath and in charge of their pseudo-government. 

“When Campbell would hurt him,” Grizz says. 

Becca exhales. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” 

They look at each, then at Sam. 

Grizz, suddenly, remembers the cold from the other night, and feels it chill his bones.

#

“You should rejoin the Guard,” Sam says in bed that night. 

Grizz’s eyes widen. Sam instantly wishes he could reclaim his words, but thoughts of the library linger in his mind. Something has to change—soon.

“You’d be a double agent,” Sam explains. “You’d know everything they were doing. They need you, anyways. Even Harry and Lexie will admit that we’ll starve if we don’t farm, and they have to see that—”

“No,” Grizz interrupts. “Harry, Lexie, and  _ Campbell  _ are too caught up in their own power. They’ll watch everyone starve before they admit they’re wrong. Everyone will fight over the food, and we won’t make it to starvation. We’ll just fucking kill each other.”

Sam waits. He knows that’s all he can do when Grizz gets like that. 

“They’ll know something is up if I rejoin,” Grizz says. “They’ll have to know.  _ You  _ have to know what you’re asking me to do.” He signs the last sentence. He’s been doing that lately, especially with words that have strong feelings. 

Sam closes his eyes, just for a moment. He promised himself that when he was older, Campbell wouldn’t be his problem. He doesn’t want to ask this of Grizz. Not at all. Even if it’s for their dumb revolution. He doesn’t know what will happen if Campbell finds out the truth. Toys, animals, people—it made no difference to Campbell. He only wanted to break things. Grizz can’t become one of them. 

But this is bigger than them.

“They’ll listen to you,” Sam forces himself to say. “And you’ll know everything that’s happening on the inside.”

“Did something happen today?” Grizz asks. 

Instead of answering, Sam lays his head on Grizz’s chest. He can feel Grizz’s heartbeat, his stomach moving up and down. Eventually, Grizz’s hand comes to Sam’s back.

Soon, Sam can breathe again. 

#

When Grizz puts the jacket on again, he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Good to have you back, my man!” Clark offers his fist—Grizz bumps it halfheartedly. Clark still whoops. “Grizz, buddy, we missed you.”

“Yeah, man, what the fuck have you been doing?” Jason asks.

_ Panicking, _ Grizz thinks.  _ Avoiding complicity in a budding fascist dictatorship that could totally be prosecuted if we make it back to our own universe. Watching  _ The Office  _ every night with a cute guy and going to bed with him. _

“Getting my head right,” Grizz says aloud. “Going out there and seeing all that land, um, really fucked with my mind.”

He glances at Luke. Luke, who has bruise-like circles under his eyes, has definitely dropped a few pounds, and hasn’t looked Grizz in the eye since he arrived. Even after everything, Grizz misses his best friend. He wishes he could walk up to him and say,  _ Hey man, what the fuck were you thinking? _

“What do I need to do?” Grizz asks instead. 

“Four of us are keeping the meeting tonight in line,” Luke says. 

“And what is this meeting about?” Grizz grimaces when none of them answer. “Come on, guys. I know things were weird for a while, but I’m back. I’m  _ here _ .” 

Clark glances at Jason. “Campbell said—”

“Food shortages,” Luke interrupts quietly. “We’re running out.”

Grizz furrows his brow. “But we thought there was enough for—”

“There, uh, was.” Luke swallows hard. “They portioned it out. Some for Campbell, Lexie, Harry, and us. The rest is for the others.” 

“They don’t deserve it,” Jason says. “We do all the fucking work around here. Maybe they should be a little hungry if they don’t wanna do shit.” 

Finally,  _ finally _ , Luke meets Grizz’s eye. 

His gaze says,  _ You should’ve stayed out of this.  _

#

The first time Sam sees Grizz back in the varsity jacket is at the church. 

He holds Eden close to his chest as he and Becca slide into the pew. As soon as they’re seated, he hands her off to Becca, who immediately coos and smiles. Sam has to hide his own grin—in the midst of everything, it’s almost easy to forget how good of a mother Becca is. He goes to tell her so when her smile falls.

“There he is,” she says, nodding her head forward. 

Sam looks in that direction. Grizz stands with Clark and Jason, laughing at something. Sam’s stomach knots, and he thinks of  _ before _ , when he was sure he was going to die alone in this place, and even more  _ before _ , when he’d pass the football players at school and wonder how intelligent, book-loving Grizz fit into the picture. 

Now, Grizz laughs again, elbowing Clark. Sam looks at his lap.  _ This isn’t real,  _ he tells himself.  _ He’s still mine.  _

And when he looks back up, Grizz’s eyes are on him. Grizz’s lips quirk to the side gently, as if confirming:  _ I’m still yours _ . 

That soft smile sustains him through the rest of the Guard entering the church, through Harry and Lexie entering, from  _ Campbell  _ entering. Only then does his heart begin to beat a little faster. He exhales, trying to calm himself, and takes stock of the room. Helena, Kelly, and Elle sit together in the front, their faces mask-like. The other ‘revolutionaries’ are spread throughout the room. Sam thinks of Allie and Will, hidden away somewhere, and sends out a quick prayer for them despite not knowing exactly how he feels about God. Can’t hurt, he supposes. 

Especially not when there’s a devil behind the podium. 

“Here’s the thing,” Campbell says, gripping the podium’s edges. Harry and Lexie stand listlessly beside him. “We’re running out of food, and Grizz here says we can’t start breaking the land until March, with the snow and shit. Everyone can’t keep eating the way they’re eating. Basically, rations are being cut.”

Lips immediately start moving, and hands start flying. Even as people shout at him, Campbell’s smirk persists. 

“Nobody will support him after this,” Becca whispers. “They can’t. They’ll have to turn against him.” 

Sam doesn’t reply. He desperately wants to agree with her, to say that this will be Campbell’s downfall, but he knows better. One way or another, Campbell gets what he wants, even if it doesn’t seem like it at first. Today is no different—in fifteen minutes, everyone is placated, satisfied with the cuts. Sam is only happy he didn’t allow himself to hope too much. 

_ You can’t beat him _ , he thinks.

_ You can’t escape him.  _

_ No revolution can succeed _ . 

When he leaves, he can’t bring himself to look Grizz in the eye.

#

After the meeting, everyone—or, Campbell’s people—goes to Harry’s house. There are drugs, alcohol, the works. Clark is passing around a blunt, and Grizz takes a hit, plus a few swigs of whiskey, but nothing more. Instead, he finds Campbell in the corner, his arm slung around Elle’s shoulder. 

“Grizz,” Campbell says, a smile curving over his lips. Elle looks at her feet. “Enjoying yourself?” 

_ No _ , he thinks.  _ Not in the least.  _

“Sure,” he says instead. 

“Good to see you away from the crazies, back where you belong.”

“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, man, why are we cutting the ration? I know we can feed everyone at the same rate for at least six more months.” 

Campbell sighs. “Grizz. You weren’t made for politics, were you?”

“Were you?”

“I know you’re smart,” Cambell says, ignoring the question. “Some people eat, other people don’t. There will always be those who hold power over others. Feel lucky you’re with the powerful ones, and don’t do anything to change that.”

The whiskey burns in Grizz’s stomach, so maybe that’s why he says, “Feeling pretty powerful yourself, huh?”

Campbell’s eyes flash. “Go home, Grizz. Say hi to my brother.”

Grizz’s entire body burns, but he forces himself to stand tall, to ask, “You okay, Elle?”

“I’m fine,” Elle murmurs.

He doesn’t believe her, but he still turns away, his heart in his throat.

#

When Grizz gets back to the house, the others are sitting around the dining room table. 

“We could, like,  _ Ocean’s 8 _ their food supply,” Bean says. “Start an underground ration smuggling ring.”

“That sounds… entertaining?” Gordie says.

“We need something that will bring us together,” Sam says. “Something that will make us unite against Campbell. What brought us together before?”

“A death,” Becca murmurs. 

“Nobody’s dying,” Sam says, then signs it again more forcefully. 

_ Nobody’s dying _ . 

Grizz sneaks to the bedroom without anyone noticing and showers. He stands under the jets for a long time, his entire body throbbing and mind racing. When he reemerges, a towel wrapped around his waist, Sam is waiting on the bed. A small smile comes to his lips, nothing like Campbell’s. 

“I knew you’d come in,” Sam signs. 

Grizz sits beside him on the bed. “How?”

Sam shrugs, sliding closer. “I just knew. I have a sixth sense when it comes to you.” His nose wrinkles. “Maybe it’s a fifth. I’m already down one.” 

Grizz chuckles and pulls Sam closer. Sam trails his fingers over Grizz’s collarbone, and then they both move to kiss each other so fast that their foreheads knock together. Sam laughs, breathless and wild, and Grizz can’t believe that he can have this, can have  _ him _ .

_ We’ll be okay,  _ he tells himself.  _ We’ll be okay _ .

#

Revolutions are slow, fickle things, Sam learns. He’s seen  _ Star Wars,  _ read  _ Hunger Games _ and all its sequels, but fiction can’t compare to reality. There’s no Death Star to blow up, no Capital to topple. There are only eight of them crowded around two six-packs and a stack of PB&J at the dining room table, reviewing what they’ve done so far. 

They’ve stolen food.

They’ve broken curfew.

They’ve tried to find Allie and Will—nothing.

They’ve tried to pinpoint weaknesses in the Guard—very few cracks. Luke, maybe. 

They’ve held small meetings with outsiders, trying to gauge interest in this revolution.

They demand elections.

Sam is exhausted. Beyond exhausted. Maybe that’s why, when Grizz falls asleep that night, he gets out of bed, puts his shoes on, and walks out of the house. He isn’t quite sure where he’s going. The streets are empty—it’s well past curfew, and Campbell can go fuck himself. He walks past the coffee shop, past the grocery store, over the bridge, until he’s standing at the treeline. His heart pounds. He closes his eyes and imagines a road, a car, driving the fuck out of this town with Grizz and Becca and Eden. He wonders if Allie and Will are dead. He wonders what Grizz’s voice sounds like. 

He turns and walks home. 

When he arrives, Grizz and Becca are both on the front porch. Grizz’s hair is matted, his eyes bleary; Becca is wrapped in her comforter, wearing mismatched socks. Her eyes flash with relief, then anger, when she sees him. 

“What the fuck?” she signs vehemently. “What the  _ F-U-C-K _ ?”

She spells it for emphasis. 

Sam goes to reply to her, but he notices Grizz leaning against the doorframe. Grizz presses his hand to his forehead.

“I thought someone took you,” Grizz says. “I thought Campbell caught up to us.”

“I went for a walk,” Sam signs.

“Without  _ telling anyone _ .” Grizz’s eyes fill with tears. “I woke up, and you were gone, Sam. What was I supposed to think?” 

_ That I’m drowning here _ , Sam wants to say.  _ I can’t live in a place run by Campbell without eventually losing something _ . 

“I’m sorry,” he signs. 

Grizz and Becca both deflate. Somehow, Sam feels worse.

#

Luke is not doing well.

Grizz comes to that definitive conclusion one night when he’s playing  _ Call of Duty  _ with him, Jason, and Clark. Jason and Clark are conked out, but Luke is staring at the victory screen with glazed eyes—Grizz recognizes that thousand-yard-stare from when they’d lose games. 

_ Hey, man, you know that I know you’re lying about Allie and Will stealing the election, and you probably feel guilty, so let’s come clean,  _ he wants to say. 

“How’s Helena?” he asks instead.

“Hm?” Luke swigs his beer. “Oh, fine.” 

Years ago, Grizz would’ve killed for Luke’s input on Helena to be one word. He remembers freshman year when Luke liked her and wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how smart she was or how pretty she was or how  _ she wished me good luck for the game tonight, that has to mean she likes me, right?  _

“Good, good,” Grizz says. “That’s good.” He pauses. “And you? Are you… okay?”

Luke sips his beer again, his brow furrowing. He’s pale, Grizz notices. Skinnier. 

“I feel like this is a nightmare,” Luke mutters. “I keep wanting to wake up.” 

Grizz figures he should go big or go home. “Lying to her is hard, huh?” Luke’s hand freezes halfway to his mouth; he’s trembling, slightly. “I know you’ve never lied to her. Must be difficult to feed her the shit Campbell’s pushing.” 

“I’m not…” Luke grimaces. “Jesus fuck, Grizz.” 

“He shouldn’t be in charge of things.” Grizz leans forward. “You know that. We  _ both _ know that. Lexie and Harry are just puppets, but Campbell… there are people in this town who want him out of power. Luke, bro, we would be happy to have you. We know that Campbell—”

The front door closes loudly. 

Grizz leaps to his feet. Campbell swaggers into the living room, his arms folded over his chest and snow dusting his hair. Luke slumps back into the chair, drinking his beer once more. Jason and Clark are still dead asleep. Campbell steps closer, and the air between him and Grizz crackles. 

“I didn’t expect to find you here, Grizz,” Campbell says.

_ Neither did I _ , he thinks.  _ How much did you hear?  _ he wants to ask.

“Duty calls.” Grizz shrugs. “Or,  _ Call of Duty _ calls. I should get going.” He finds his coat and starts toward the front door. Campbell catches his shoulder. Grizz forces himself to stay still. 

“Careful out there,” Campbell says. “Snow’s coming down. You don’t wanna slip.”

“No,” Grizz says. “I don’t suppose I do.”

#

Sam knows he shouldn’t, but he still goes on walks late at night. 

There’s something peaceful about being the only person outside, the street lights flickering in and out. There’s something peaceful about being  _ alone _ . He loves the time he has with this new family he’s building, but he also needs space to breathe and think. With Becca, Grizz, and Eden, everything feels too perfect. Alone, he can remember  _ why _ there’s a revolution,  _ why _ they’re all looking for a way home. He tells Grizz as much one night, and Grizz scoffs. 

“It’s dangerous,” Grizz signs. “I don’t like you out there alone.”

Sam dismisses his concerns. It’s a walk. He can go alone. 

Tonight, the growing cold has arrived in full force, biting and bitter. Sam ducks his head against the wind. He’s not paying attention to his surroundings, not really. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice the second figure until it’s right next to him. 

The person drags him into a dark alley. Sam’s first thought is,  _ fuck.  _ Someone is going to murder him and leave him on the street. Becca and Grizz will find his body. Sam’s second thought?  _ Fight _ . He doesn’t want to die tonight, so he flails and scratches until he feels a hand on the back of his neck. He thinks,  _ Campbell.  _

He spins so they’re face to face, but Campbell’s hand tightens around Sam’s throat. He slams Sam against the wall. Suddenly, Sam feels small, even smaller than he’d felt as a child. Campbell snarls; Sam gasps for breath, thrashing. When Campbell lets him go, he slumps against the wall, brushing his fingers against his own neck. 

“Tell me why Grizz is trying to start a revolution,” Campbell says.

“Why would I know anything about what Grizz is doing?”

“Come on, Sam. I’ve seen you with him.” Campbell grabs him by his neck again and hauls him to his feet. “You like him, huh? Trying to get in his pants?”

“We’re friends,” Sam manages. “And nobody here is stupid enough to start a fucking revolution, Campbell.”

Campbell’s jaw twitches. Sam sees white, then black, as Campbell chokes him; he closes his eyes. Campbell used to say he’d blind him one day. Sam would have nightmares about existing in a sightless, soundless void. Now, he takes comfort in oblivion, even as Campbell’s hand loosens. He sinks to his knees, digs his nails into the gravel, and tries to remember how to breathe. 

_ Tell me why Grizz is trying to start a revolution.  _

He picks himself off the ground and walks home. 

#

Sam manages to make it upstairs without waking Becca. Grizz is a different story. 

He’s scrolling through his camera roll in bed when Sam enters the room. Sam signs  _ shower _ and goes into the bathroom. Hot water pounds against his skin, and Sam closes his eyes again. He imagines waking up and being in a place where he could pack everything into a car and  _ go _ until the water goes cold. After changing into pajamas, he stares at his neck in the mirror. It’s red and purple with mottled bruising; he can see the shape of Campbell’s fingers. He exhales and shudders. 

Grizz will see.

Still, Sam ducks his head as he slips under the comforter. Grizz brushes his hand through Sam’s hair, tilting Sam’s face toward him. Sam tries to hide a wince. Instantly, Grizz’s eyes darken. His fingers graze against the bruises, and he says, “Campbell did this.”

“Please,” Sam signs. “Just don’t.”

“It was about me, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not worth it. He does this.”

“He chokes you.”

“We just have to watch our steps, Grizz, we—”

Grizz catches his hands. “I’m not going to let him hurt you,” he says. “He has to know that he can’t do that. He can’t.” He bites his lip, hands braced on Sam’s shoulder. “Are you… are you okay? Overall?”

_ I’m scared,  _ Sam thinks.  _ He knows we’re connected. He’s going to hurt you. It’s only a matter of time. Campbell always gets what he wants _ .

Instead of answering, he curls into Grizz’s side and tries not to cry. 

#

Grizz is mad. 

No—he’s downright  _ furious.  _

Every time he thinks of Campbell wrapping his hand around Sam’s throat, his chest tightens with anger. And when he thinks he’s calmed down, he sees a flash of the bruising and gets mad all over again. It doesn’t help when everyone gathers in the church again for a meeting—he’s at the front for Guard duty, so he sees Sam walk in at the tail end of the crowd, then sit at the edge of a pew. Sam’s shirt is buttoned to cover his throat. 

Grizz’s anger flares. 

“Hey, man.” Luke comes to his side, brow furrowed. “Everything okay?”

He grits his teeth, looking around the church. Campbell’s off to the side with Harry and Elle, wearing one of his shitty smirks; he glances at Sam and laughs.  _ Laughs _ . 

Grizz strides across the church. Before he’s fully registered what he’s doing, he’s standing in front of Campbell, his fists clenched at his side. 

Campbell stops talking and arches an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“I know what you did to Sam,” Grizz says quietly. 

“Ah.” Campbell waves off Harry and Elle—Grizz hates that they actually leave. “What the fuck do you care what I do to my brother?” 

“I…” Grizz swallows hard. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ , he shouldn’t have done this. 

“You should’ve seen him,” Campbell says. “Struggling for breath.” 

Luke touches his shoulder. Grizz shrugs his hand away. 

“I think,” Grizz says, “that you’re fucking out of line.”

“I think,” Campbell replies, “that Sam thought I was going to kill him. But why do you care?” Campbell’s eyes narrow; he tilts his head to the side. Grizz feels ripped open, on display.  _ He knows _ , Grizz’s brain provides.  _ He’s figured something out _ . 

“Don’t fucking touch him again.”

“What are you gonna do, big guy?” Campbell smirks. “Hit me?”

Grizz rears his fist back and swings. 

Campbell hits the ground with a satisfying  _ thud _ . 

All chatter in the church quiets. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks. Grizz only hears his own heavy breathing, feels his knuckles throbbing—he hasn’t uncurled his still-extended fist. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want to see Sam.

Slowly, Campbell’s fingers come to his own bruised cheek. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Luke mutters.

“Well.” Campbell stands. Grizz takes pleasure in how he works his jaw and sways before righting himself. “Look who found his balls.”

Grizz straightens his shoulders. Football taught him how to use every inch of his height to intimidate. For once, he’s glad to be so tall—Campbell has to tilt his chin upward to meet Grizz’s eyes. Campbell opens his mouth. Grizz wonders if he’ll hit him again.

Sam suddenly comes between them, his back to Grizz at first before he moves to look at them both. “Don’t do this,” he says to Grizz, and adds, “I’m okay.” He turns to Campbell to say, “He’s sorry.”

“You’re speaking for him, now?” Campbell says. 

“Please.” Sam’s voice shakes. “He really is sorry.”

The brothers lock eyes. Grizz doesn’t dare breathe; pain radiates up his arm from his knuckle.  _ I shouldn’t have done it,  _ he thinks.  _ I take it back, I take it back, I take it— _

Campbell swears and storms away from them. “Go home!” he shouts. Nobody moves. “Everyone get the  _ fuck  _ out!”

Grizz can’t bring himself to walk away. His feet are rooted to the spot, but his mind is  _ spinning _ , his thoughts crashing out of control. They only come to a horrible stop when Sam takes his wrist. His eyes are steely and red.

“You heard him,” Sam says quietly. “We’re going home.”

#

It’s the longest walk of Grizz’s life.

Sam won’t look at him; ergo, no conversation. Even when they get to the house, Sam jogs up the front steps and doesn’t hold the front door open. Grizz still manages to catch it and slip inside. He leans against the door, watching Sam grab a beer from the fridge and drink half of it in one go. Finally, he meets Grizz’s eyes—Grizz decides to capitalize.

“I’m guessing you’re mad,” he says. 

Sam finishes the other half of his beer and takes another. 

A door down the hall opens. They stare at each other as Becca walks into the kitchen. She glances between them before asking, “Who the fuck died?”

“Nobody yet,” Sam says. He slams the beer can on the counter. “But Grizz decided to punch Campbell.”

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves. Grizz hears the bedroom door shut. 

“You punched Campbell?” Becca asks, eyes wide and incredulous. 

Grizz sighs. “Are you gonna give me the silent treatment, too?”

“Mmm. I’m wishing I’d been there to see it. Also wishing I had the pleasure of doing it myself.” She leans forward, a hard glint in her eyes. “That  _ asswipe _ gave Sam so much shit his entire life. It’s about time someone hit him.”

“I’m feeling the  _ but  _ coming.”

“But he hates feeling like someone’s protecting him.” She ducks her head, smiling sadly. “We all need protecting sometimes. He doesn’t realize that. If you want to care for him, you have to do it quietly. Punching Campbell in the face is the opposite of  _ quietly.” _

“Yeah,” Grizz says wryly. “I wish we weren’t stuck in a parallel universe or dead or whatever, you know? I could take him to dinner and a movie like a normal person.”

“Now, punching his psychopath dictator brother in the face is the peak of romance.” 

Grizz chuckles and takes Sam’s unfinished beer from the countertop. He and Becca eventually move to the living room. He puts on  _ The Office _ and sprawls out across the couch; Becca takes Eden from her crib to hold her. 

Eventually, Sam comes downstairs. Grizz pauses the episode, breathless.

“You didn’t watch the dinner party one without me, did you?” Sam asks. 

“We skipped it,” Becca signs. “Just for you.”

A small smile comes to Sam’s lips. His eyes are red and puffy, like he’s been crying, but he still comes to the couch where Grizz is laying down; he sits, moving Grizz’s head onto his lap. Becca starts the episode. Sam cards his hand through Grizz’s hair. 

For now, everything is okay.

#

Five days after punching Campbell in the church, Grizz wakes in the middle of the night with the sense that something is very  _ wrong _ . 

He slips out of bed without waking Sam, pulling on an old t-shirt. The temptation to tiptoe and shut the door quietly remains, even though he could scream bloody murder and Sam would remain asleep. He creeps down the hallway, past Becca’s room, and is about to open the door when he remembers that she’s sleeping over at Kelly’s, with Eden. The anxiety pooling in his gut tightens. He wonders if he’s finally losing it. 

Then, from the kitchen, he hears footsteps.

He curses, then runs back to the bedroom and grabs the knife Sam keeps in his underwear drawer. Sam doesn’t know that Grizz knows the knife exists. He’s wrong. It’s a small knife, as far as knives go, but it makes him feel better as he creeps into the kitchen. 

“Who the fuck is there?” he calls.

“That’s no way to greet a guest.”

Campbell’s voice. He’s sitting on the countertop next to the coffee pot, his arms folded over his chest. Moonlight streams through the kitchen windows, illuminating Campbell’s steely gaze and the bruise blooming over his cheekbone. His lips quirk to the side. 

Grizz raises the knife. “Get out,” he snarls. 

“Loyal, aren’t you?” Campbell says mildly. 

“I’ll…” Grizz realizes there’s nothing he can do. The police don’t exist. It’s only the Guard. Campbell can literally do whatever he wants to him. Dread settles over him. 

“I’m not here to hurt you.” Campbell clicks his tongue. “Not tonight, at least.”

“Then what do you want?” 

“I’m making an offer. Everyone thinks you’re a leader of this revolution, or whatever the fuck it is. So.” He claps his hands together. “You turn yourself, stand trial, and we get all this revolution shit over with.” 

“That doesn’t sound like much of an offer for me.”

“Yeah, I’m getting to that. You do all that, I free Will and Allie. I ignore that Luke has been straying from the Guard more and more every day.” He leans in. “I leave Sam alone.” 

Grizz nearly drops the knife. His body goes cold. 

“Because he’s involved in this too, right? Maybe I need to keep him in the cellar for a few days, have Jason and Clark question him to see what he knows. We keep the prisoners blindfolded now, so I’d have to follow protocol.” 

He remembers everything Jason and Clark did to Dewey  _ before _ the entire town lost its goddamn mind—the bruises, the cuts, the lack of food. Before he can stop himself, he imagines Sam locked in the wine cellar, unable to hear  _ or  _ see. 

“Please,” Grizz whispers. 

“You can save them, Grizz,” Campbell says. “I know that’s what you want to do. You always want to be the hero and save everyone.”

“You can’t—”

“Two days.” Campbell starts for the front door. “Two days, and then I take him.”

#

Grizz doesn’t go back upstairs when the front door closes. Instead, he lets the knife fall to the floor, then sits down hard beside it. 

The idea of Sam locked away, tied up,  _ tortured _ haunts him. He thinks of Clark hitting Sam like he hit Dewey and sobs harder. He can’t let that happen. He can’t. But he can’t turn himself in to Campbell, can’t sacrifice whatever movement is growing against Campbell, and  _ fuck,  _ he doesn’t  _ want  _ to give up the life he has now. 

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his thigh. His head jerks up.

Sam. 

Sam is kneeling in front of him, concern written over his face. Grizz stops crying. How did Sam know to find him down here?

“Hey,” Sam says. “ _ Hey _ . What’s wrong?”

Grizz tells him everything. By the end, tears are pooling in his eyes.

“Come here,” Sam says.

And Grizz begins to sob.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything comes full circle, Grizz realizes."
> 
> Alternatively: Campbell strikes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I am back with the conclusion to this story. Thank you to everyone who has left lovely comments/kudos or has bookmarked this story!! I'm going to leave some content warnings in the end notes -- that Graphic Depictions tag kicks in here, and with how everything is, I know some people don't want heavier stuff! So if you're not feeling it, check out those notes :-)
> 
> Also, please know that my medical knowledge is non-existent. All injuries serve for that sweet, sweet hurt/comfort

Before everything, they had AP Lit together. 

They weren’t friends, exactly, but they were friendly—they ended up partnered together a lot for projects, just because Mrs. Perry wanted to separate Grizz and Luke. Sam liked talking to Grizz, even then. He was always easy to talk to, animated and kind.

So that was why, one afternoon in February, when Sam saw Grizz on a secluded bench under a tree in the student parking lot, he paused. Something was off. Grizz was alone, for one, and was staring at nothing, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. 

He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and walked to the bench. Grizz looked up as Sam approached. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked without preamble. If he hadn’t, he would’ve lost his courage. 

Grizz wiped his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Well…” He hesitated. “I got into Columbia.” 

Sam cocked his head. “I’m sorry?”

“I got, like, zero financial aid, though. There’s no way I can afford to go.”

“Scholarships?”

“I’ve tried. Nothing. You don’t even know how many scholarships I’ve applied for. Foundations don’t want to give you money to study old plays when climate change is a thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam repeated, sincere this time. “I’d give you money to study old plays.”

“Thank you.” Grizz scrunched up his nose in a way that made Sam’s heart clench. “I have this plan, you see. Columbia was a part of it.” 

“Well, not everything goes to plan. The world changes fast, and you never know what could happen. A giant meteor could fall from the sky at any minute. No more Columbia.”

“Anything could happen.” He smiled. “Thank you, truly.”

#

_ The world changes fast, and you never know what could happen _ . 

Grizz never anticipated this: being stranded in a parallel universe, Sam Elliot holding him as he cried while they sat on Becca Gelb’s kitchen floor, all because Campbell Elliot has given him two days to turn himself in for being a revolutionary leader. 

It’s a lot.

#

Grizz can make himself small when he wants, Sam has noticed. 

It begins in his shoulders. Then, he drags his knees to his chest and brings his arms around his legs. Sam usually doesn’t mind, but now, it feels wrong to see him look so small.

Because  _ Campbell  _ made him feel small. 

Sam holds Grizz until his sobs stop, and then a little after. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s a familiar weight resettling in his stomach, one he spent most of his life carrying—the fear that any day might be the one where Campbell snaps and ruins his life. Impossibly, it feels heavier now, mostly because he knows there will be collateral damage. Becca. Eden. Grizz. 

There already  _ is  _ collateral damage. Grizz is afraid, and Campbell’s responsible. 

“I should’ve killed him,” Grizz signs now. “I should’ve just killed him and dealt with the consequences,  _ fuck _ .” 

“No.” Sam grabs Grizz’s hands. “You’re not a killer. We’re not stooping to his level.”

_ And if anyone is going to do it, it’ll be me _ .

The thought grips him. If it comes to killing Campbell, he won’t let Grizz do it. Grizz has told him about Dewey, about how he took the first shot but couldn’t bring himself to take the second. Sam refuses to put him in that position again. 

“Okay,” Grizz signs. “Then I should just turn myself in.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re not doing that, either. We’re going to fix this.” Grizz looks like he’s panicking and about to do something rash. “Hey,” he says aloud. “We’re going to fix this. You’re not turning yourself in. It’ll be fine.”

In the moment, Sam buys into his own conviction completely. He has to.

They can’t both panic.

#

Sam and Becca.

This time around, it’s only the three of them, Grizz realizes, if he doesn’t count Eden, who’s cradled close to Sam’s chest. He’s just finished telling Becca everything. 

“He won’t free Allie and Will,” Becca says immediately. She frowns deeply, then adds, “I know we don’t want to think about this, but they could already be dead.” 

“We can’t trust anything he says,” Sam says. “He lies.” 

“Sure,” Grizz agrees. “But I don’t think he was lying about hurting you.”

Sam shrugs, which infuriates Grizz. “He’s hurt me before.”

“That was back home,” Becca signs. “Where we had a legal system. And less guns. And he wasn’t in charge of everything.” 

“She wasn’t a factor, either.” Grizz points to Eden. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’d risk her safety, and I’ll consider not turning myself in.” 

Sam stares at the table. Even though he’s right, Grizz feels none of the satisfaction. 

“Want to know what the best thing would be?” Becca says. “If we could just figure out a way to go the fuck home. Right now.”

“Have we tried clicking our heels three times?” Grizz jokes. Sam chuckles, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

None of them want to say it: they’re truly, unequivocally fucked. 

#

They only admit that they’re going in circles at midnight. Sam’s so tired he can barely stand—Grizz half-carries him upstairs to their bedroom. They don’t talk as they change into pajamas. Sam wonders what he can say to convince his kind-hearted, horribly self-sacrificial, pragmatic boyfriend that doing what he considers to be the right thing is the wrong choice. 

It’s freezing tonight. Sam shivers as he brushes his teeth, and wonders how they’ll survive when the cold really settles in. He thinks, truly, that their best option is what Becca said: getting the fuck home as soon as possible. 

He pushes the thoughts away and gets into bed. Grizz is reading, some title Sam probably would’ve skipped in favor of SparkNotes in AP Lit. Without looking up from the page, Grizz lifts his arm so Sam can curl in closer. It’s instinctual, natural, considerate.

Sam suddenly wants Grizz as far away from Campbell as possible.

“Let’s run,” he says. “We can run.” 

Grizz dog-ears his page. “Run?” His face is difficult to read. “Run where?”

“Past the fields you discovered. Becca and Eden will come, too. We couldn’t carry your books on the first trip, but we could come back for them.”

“Sam, there’s nowhere to live out there.”

“Tents. And we could build a house. I’d plant you a garden, too. I’d grow you so much food. You’d never be hungry, we can watch  _ The Office  _ every night, and Campbell won’t find us.”

Sam recognizes the implausibility. But Grizz… if Grizz agrees, it becomes slightly less implausible. Grizz scrunches up his nose, though. Sam feels something in his chest fracture. 

“Sam,” Grizz says.

“We can run,” Sam insists. “We should’ve done it weeks ago. I want to run. I want to leave. I don’t care what’s out there. It has to be better than here.”

“Sam, we can’t do that, we can’t leave our friends with—”

Sam rolls over so he can ignore Grizz. He knows what Campbell is capable of. If Grizz turns himself in, he won’t be in control anymore—Campbell will. He’s said, over and over and over, that Campbell is someone to be feared. Nobody listened. Not really. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel tired. He feels  _ mad _ . He gets out of bed and puts on pants, a henley, his coat and boots. 

Grizz comes to stand in front of him. “What are you doing?” he signs. 

“I’m taking a walk,” Sam replied, because he knows it will piss Grizz off. Maybe it’s petty. He doesn’t give a shit right now. He can’t be in the house. 

He doesn’t wait for Grizz’s reaction.

#

Sam walks all the way to the bridge. He stands on the railing, looking out at the trees. He imagines a gun, solid in his hand. He imagines pointing it at Campbell. He tries to imagine pulling the trigger. It’s difficult. He’s never seen anyone shot, except on TV. He imagines, instead, finding a way home.

_ You have to know the way home _ , he thinks at the trees.  _ Please.  _

The tree branches sway in the wind. If they’re telling him the answer, he can’t understand their language. 

He walks home. 

#

Grizz is reading when Sam returns to the bedroom. 

He closes his book and rushes to Sam. Before he knows it, Sam is enveloped in Grizz’s arms. He stands on his tiptoes to press his face into the crook of Grizz’s neck. 

Grizz kisses the side of Sam’s head. He pulls back and signs, “You’re freezing.” 

“You waited up,” Sam signs back. 

Grizz nods. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have fought. I’m scared, though, I really am.” He clenches and unclenches his fists. “Let’s go to bed and think of a plan tomorrow, okay? If you want to, we can run. As long as we’re together, I don’t care.” 

Sam kisses him.  _ I love you,  _ he thinks. He almost says it, especially as Grizz smiles and pulls him toward the bed.  _ I love you.  _

He decides there will be time to tell him later. 

#

They pass the day without thinking of a plan. Grizz doesn’t think there  _ is  _ a plan that will get him away from Campbell—it’s like they’re in a car hurtling toward a brick wall, and their brakes have been cut. It hangs over them all day, a blow that could land at any second. Still, they eat dinner and settle onto the couch to watch  _ The Office _ . 

They’re halfway through the fire drill episode when a knock comes at the door. 

_ I’m going to die,  _ Stanley says on the TV. 

Eden begins to cry. Grizz stands to open the door, but Sam grabs his hand.

“Don’t,” he says. “It’s been less than two days.” 

_ I can’t keep doing this forever!  _ comes the show

Grizz kisses the top of Sam’s head, then brushes his hair aside. He nods to Becca.  _ Take care of him,  _ he hopes it says. 

He answers the door. Sure enough, Campbell is there with Luke and other Guard members. Grizz swallows hard. 

_ I would die.  _

_ And you’re okay with that?  _

“I think you know why I’m here,” Campbell says. 

_ I’m okay with the logic of it _ .

In the background, Eden screams. Grizz’s head feels light.

“You said two days,” Grizz says. 

“New evidence,” Campbell replies. “Of revolution activities.”

“There’s no evidence.”

Campbell shrugs—they both know that evidence doesn’t matter, not here. Campbell is in charge, so he can do whatever he wants. Grizz won’t fight. Not with Sam and Becca here. Not when his best fucking friend is here to arrest him. 

He does look over his shoulder, though. Sam stands in the hallway, looking horrified.

_ I love you,  _ Grizz signs.

And then he lets Campbell handcuff him. 

#

Sam watches Campbell and the Guard lead Grizz away. He remembers watching Grizz walk into the woods the first day they were here, and then again when he led the expedition to look for land, both times unsure if he would return

Everything comes full circle. 

#

Everything comes full circle, Grizz realizes. 

He stares at the spot where he’d stood months ago, looking in at Dewey. Now, sitting where Dewey had sat, looking out, he wonders if he’s going to die, too. He thinks about being blindfolded, tied to a chair in the woods, shot in the back of the head by his friends. He hopes his friends do it, at least. 

Someone is always with him—guys he knew in high school. They look at him warily, like he’ll snap at any moment. Grizz doesn’t feel like he’s going to snap. In fact, he feels eerily calm. He eats the food they bring him, drinks the water left at the door, pisses when they bring him to the bathroom, and sleeps when the lights go out. He doesn’t know how many days pass like this. He thinks about Sam a lot, and home. There’s a dangerous line between reminiscing and wallowing, and he walks it frequently. 

Sometimes they question him. It’s never Clark, or Jason, or Luke. 

_ Who else is involved? _

_ What were you planning? _

_ You better talk, or there are gonna be consequences _ . 

Shoe hits him one day, hard enough to bruise. That night, Grizz doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink. He lays on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, and wonders how it came to this.

#

It’s been four days since Campbell took Grizz. Sam feels like he’s losing his mind. He sits at the kitchen table with Becca and tells her as much.

“It’s because you aren’t eating,” she signs, then gestures at the pot of spaghetti on the stove. “Eat something.”

He gets a bowl and forces himself to take a few bites. 

“He’s going to kill him,” he signs. There’s no need to clarify who. 

Becca shifts. “Do you really…” 

Sam looks down at his food so he won’t see her finish the sentence. He remembers learning about a woman in Greek mythology—although he doesn’t remember her name—who always told the truth but was never believed. 

_ Campbell will destroy us _ , he has said time and time again. 

Nobody seems to believe him. 

Becca takes his hand. “We aren’t going to let Grizz die, okay? What can we do?”

“I…” Sam steels himself. “I’m going to go talk to Campbell.”

#

Sam feels like a stranger approaching his own house. Still, the door is unlocked, so he simply walks in. 

He nearly collides with Elle. 

They blink at each other, like two strange animals meeting in an even stranger place. Sam allows himself to feel guilty when confronted with this girl, this girl he barely knows, this girl who has borne the brunt of his brother’s wrath. He knows what Campbell has most likely done for her. He knows that he didn’t do anything to stop it. 

He can’t think about that now. 

“I need to talk to Campbell,” he says. 

“About Grizz?” he asks. 

He nods. 

She bounces on her heels, glancing over her shoulder. Then, she takes her phone from her pocket and types something quickly. She hands it to him, and the screen’s on the notes app. 

_ I’ll try to help any way I can _ , her note reads.  _ I know that you’re trying to get rid of him and Harry and Lexie. If Grizz gets free, tell him to come to me.  _

Before he can ask her questions, she snatches her phone away. Campbell comes into the foyer, smirking. Elle instantly smiles, even when he puts a controlling hand on her neck. 

“Concerned about Grizzy-boy?” Campbell asks. “We’re feeding him, don’t worry. There’s even going to be a trial in two days. What do you think about that?”

“I think that’s bullshit,” Sam says. 

Campbell grins. “That’s the thing. I don’t care what you think. I can do whatever I want. You wanna fight me on that?” He leans closer. “Because anything you do will come back to Grizz.”

And just like that, Sam deflates.

What was he thinking coming here?

#

Grizz naps.

When he wakes, Luke is there, staring at him. 

Luke looks like absolute garbage. His clothes hang off his frame—he must have dropped a few pounds—and his hair is shaggy over his forehead. There are dark circles under his eyes, too, and a deathly pallor colors his skin. Grizz imagines he doesn’t look much better. 

Wordlessly, Luke enters the wine cellar and closes the door behind him. 

“Your turn, huh?” Grizz manages to sit up. “I’ll save you some time. Nobody else is involved, I’m not planning anything, and you can tell Campbell to kiss my ass.”

Luke sits cross-legged in front of him. “Campbell doesn’t know I’m here.” 

Now Grizz is paying attention.

“You were right,” Luke says. “Every day, I have to look at her and lie. It’s killing me, Grizz. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. And now Campbell—”

“He wants to kill me,” Grizz says. “Doesn’t he?”

“Fuck, Grizz. Campbell won’t… Campbell’s not…” He blinks rapidly. “I didn’t think he was this bad, I didn’t… he wouldn’t…  _ fuck _ .” 

Luke begins to cry. 

Grizz has only seen Luke cry three times: when he dislocated his shoulder freshman year, when Helena got into a car accident junior year, and when they lost in the final round of playoffs in November. Luke’s not a crier, not even when he’s drunk or high, but he’s weeping, now, his face buried in his hands. 

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Luke said. “I swear to God, I didn’t. When you left to look for land, they… they, like, cornered me, and told me they were gonna take over, and I swear, it happened so fast. They threatened me. I thought I could make it okay, Grizz. I thought if I watched them carefully, I could stop it from being like this.” 

He takes a deep, shuddery breath. Grizz doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m so sorry, man.” Luke’s voice trembles. “I… if your side will still have me, I want to help. I think even Clark and Jason are fed up with Campbell and Harry’s bullshit. Campbell’s methods are shit, yeah, but he’s right. People are looking to you.” 

“I never asked for that,” Grizz says.

“I know. But you’re smart, man. You have practical skills.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I have an idea.”

Grizz’s mouth feels dry.

_ I have an idea _ .

That alone seems dangerous, but Grizz says, “Tell me.”

“Campbell wants to hold your trial in two days,” Luke says. “It won’t really be a trial. He just wants to be able to say he had one. But they’ll have to transport you to the Church. I want you to jump out of the car and  _ run _ .”

_ What if we run?  _ Grizz hears. 

“You can get into the woods and get to the land you found. Nobody but the people on your expedition know where it is. Bean and I will come get you at night.” 

Grizz swallows hard. He made the mistake of saying no once. Still, doubt gnaws at him. “I’ve been living on Cheetos for days. I don’t feel like I have the strength to run.”

“I’ll sneak you extra food and put protein powder in your drinks.” Luke holds up a hand. “I know that sounds disgusting, but it’s what you need.”

“You and your fucking protein powder.” 

Luke chuckles. “What do you say?”

Slowly, Grizz nods. “Okay. But if we try this, I need a promise.” He inhales. This isn’t how he pictured doing this—not at all—but he hadn’t anticipated his classmates going batshit crazy in a parallel universe, either. “Sam.”

Luke’s brow furrows. “Sam Elliot?”

“Yeah,” Grizz whispers. It’s hard to think about Sam, now, without feeling pain in his chest. “If it goes wrong, keep him safe. He’ll say he doesn’t need to be protected, so you have to do it quietly. So he doesn’t notice. Please.” 

“Wanna tell me why I’m protecting Campbell’s brother?” 

“Because we’re together. We have been. Like.” He scrunches his nose up. “Romantically. We’re together romantically. He’s my boyfriend.” 

Luke stares. Grizz wants, desperately, to know what’s going on in his head. 

“Please, Luke,” he whispers. “I can’t…”

“You and Sam?” Luke says. “For how long?”

“Thanksgiving. I… God, Luke, it’s the only good thing to come out of this. I would do anything for him. I can’t do this until I know he’ll be okay.” 

“I’m just… processing. Dude, so when you were super obsessed with that guy who brought you weed, it wasn’t just because of the weed?”

“Ah. No. It was good weed, but he was really, really hot.” 

“The weed wasn’t that good. That makes so much  _ sense _ .” Luke chuckles, and Grizz joins in, almost breathlessly. “Okay, he says. We’re gonna do this. It’s gonna work.”

And Grizz believes him.

#

Sam has nightmares.

Some are familiar: Campbell choking him, failing a test, being trapped in a dark room. 

Others are new: a knock on the door, lowering Cassandra into the ground, burying Grizz. A lot are about Grizz, bleeding or sobbing or dying in general. It would be okay if Grizz were next to him in bed, and Sam could hold him.

Nothing is okay, now.

#

They put Grizz in the backseat of a car, dressed just as he is: socks, hoodie, sweatpants.

“Can I have some fucking shoes?” he asks. He’s ignored. 

It’s not a long drive from Luke’s house to the church. He watches for opportunities, but it isn’t like there are red lights or stop signs. His heart hammers in his chest. His mouth grows dry. The car takes another turn, and the church is in sight. He can make out people. The Guard. 

It’s now or never, he realizes. 

He throws open the car door and leaps out. He slams into the snow and rolls; the last time he hit the ground so hard was the senior-year hit that nearly gave him a concussion in the last game of the regular season. Still, he got up from that one, and he gets up now, too. 

Grizz runs.

His socked feet slip and slide against the slick snow, thirst and hunger weaken his body, but he forces himself to push  _ forward _ . After falling for the third time, he rips his socks off and runs barefoot. The cold nips at his feet, but his grip is better. He feels like a wild thing, prey running for its life, barefoot with his overgrown hair flying everywhere. 

In the distance, people shout. He speeds up. He remembers playing fugitive months ago, when everything seemed like a game. He should’ve known better—nothing,  _ nothing  _ was a game. But how could he have known? It didn’t cease being a game all at once; Campbell changed the rules slowly so that people wouldn’t notice. 

Grizz didn’t notice until it was too late, and here he is.

Running for his goddamn life. 

The ground grows more slippery as he nears the bridge. He’ll hide out in the forest, he thinks, and sneak back into town when night falls, like Luke suggested. That’ll work. 

_ That’ll work _ , he tells himself.  _ That’ll work _ .

And then, he falls again.

His knees slam against ice—it shatters and pierces his skin. He rolls onto his back, panting. Pain reverberates through his body as he stares up at the gray sky. He needs to get up. If he wants to live, he has to get up. With a cry, he drags himself to his knees. The wind whips around him, rustling through leafless branches. Everything hurts. He feels senseless. 

That's why, when he sees a black-clad figure moving toward him, he thinks he’s imagining it. But the figure draws nearer, undeniably real. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this, Grizz.” Campbell draws a gun from his waistband. Grizz feels an inevitable fate weighing down his shoulders. “It didn’t have to be like this. You didn’t have to run.” 

Grizz fights to stay upright on his knees. He trembles, full-body shivers that wrack his aching muscles and threaten to crack his bones.

Campbell takes a gun from his waistband.

“There’s an order to this,” Campbell says. “You can’t change the rules.” 

“Rules?” Grizz shouts. His voice sounds raw against the blistering wind. “What rules, Campbell? What good will your rules be when we’re all fucking dead?”

“Only your people will die. Your little fucking revolution. My people…” Campbell smirks. “What’s that quote about history and winners?”

Grizz could cry. He doesn’t feel like a leader. All he feels now is the cold, sinking its teeth into his skin, a distinctly physical sensation. This has spiraled away from all of them, he wants to say. Months ago, they were high schoolers. Not dictators. Not revolutionaries. High schoolers. Desperately, Grizz wants to go back to that, wants to go back to that parking lot where Sam smiled at him, really smiled. He wants this all to be a dream.

He doesn’t want to die.

“Don’t do this,” Grizz pleads. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Campbell fires once.

Twice.

Three times.

#

Grizz’s trial is today. Sam is going to go. He has to, as much as he doesn’t want to. He has to be there for whatever happens. So he combs his hair, washes his face, buttons his shirt. 

And then Becca bursts into the room breathless.

“Gwen is going to watch Eden for a while,” she signs. “We have to go.”

“Go where?” he replies. 

“Kelly texted me. Grizz ran. Just outside of the church. He jumped out of the car and ran, and now the Guard is chasing him.”

Becca bites her lip. Sam struggles to catch his breath, studying her. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asks. 

“People…” Her hands falter. “They’ve heard gunshots.”

“Do they know where Campbell is?”

Becca shakes her head. Dread suddenly consumes Sam; he’s thinking the worst before he can stop himself. His throat feels tight, his breaths labored. 

“Hey,” Becca says. “Let’s go. Let’s find him, and we’ll go from there.”

#

Outside, it’s chaos. 

The closer they get to the church, the more chaotic it gets. People run around, lips moving rapidly. Sam scans the crowd—he knows Grizz won’t be there, but he can’t stop himself from double checking. When he doesn’t see him, he looks out at the surrounding landscape. Where would he go, Sam asks himself? Where would he see as a safe place? 

He thinks of the library, Becca’s house, Grizz’s own house. Then, the trees catch his attention. He thinks of all the Leopold, Muir, and Thoreau sitting on Grizz’s nightstand.

Grizz will go to the forest. 

Sam needs to get to the bridge. 

He turns, looking for Becca. Instead, he locks eyes with the only other stationary figure in the crowd: Campell. People move between them, but Sam stares down his brother. Campbell stares right back. He makes for a severe figure, his black coat and dark hair cutting lines against the snow and gray sky. Sam remembers standing before him when this all began.

_ Don’t come home _ , Campbell had said. And he hadn’t. He’d stayed out of Campbell’s way, and Campbell still found an excuse to hurt him. 

Now, Campbell’s lips lift in a knowing smirk that sends a chill down Sam’s spine. 

_ What did you do?  _ he wants to ask. But the question will go unanswered, and around and around they will go. He doesn’t have that time to waste. He finds Becca.

“We have to get to the bridge,” he says.

They run.

#

Grizz stares at the treetops and remembers a Muir quote.  _ The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.  _

Everything feels numb.

Grizz thinks he’s going to die.

#

Before they get all the way to the bridge, Luke steps into their path. Sam freezes. Luke’s eyes are wide, frightened.

“Did you find him?” Luke asks. When Sam doesn’t answer, Luke leans in and continues, “I told him to run, but I don’t know if he made it. I heard… I heard the gunshots. I didn’t expect them to chase him. I’m going to check around the football field.”

“We’ll check the bridge,” Becca says. “And then we can meet up again.” 

“He wouldn’t have had to run,” Sam blurts, surprising himself, “if you had done the right things months ago.”

Luke looks as if he’d been slapped. Sam doesn’t care. 

He just needs to find Grizz. 

#

At a certain point, Grizz stops feeling the pain. He doesn’t think that’s a good sign. 

He hopes Sam isn’t the one who finds his body. 

He fades. 

#

Sam and Becca reach the bridge.

He sees a nightmare manifested. 

#

In AP Lit, they had to write an in-class essay about  _ Lord of the Flies _ . Sam hadn’t read the book, and when they were handed the prompt, he blanked. He didn’t know who the fuck Piggy or Jack or Ralph was, and it was about to show. 

But then Grizz, who sat right next to him, had slipped him a folded sheet of paper. A list of characters, major themes, plot events, all mapped out in Grizz’s chicken-scratch letters. Sam scraped by with the notes, and after, asked Grizz why he’d helped him. 

“I think Golding got it wrong,” Grizz said. “People help each other out in tough situations. Those little shits were pretty quick to start killing pigs.” 

“That’s just you,” Sam said. He knew he’d be more inclined to keep his head down and survive; he knew his brother would wreak havoc in a  _ Lord of the Flies  _ situation. 

Grizz smiled, so wide that his nose scrunched up. Sam imagined that smile again and again and again, until it was a familiar, comforting thing. 

#

Grizz lays on his back, his head lolling to the side. Blood blooms from his chest and stomach, and red petals darken the surrounding snow; more blood dribbles from his mouth, dripping down his blue-tinged lips and pale face. 

Sam can’t tell if his chest is moving, or if the wind is just rippling his shirt.

Sam thinks he might be screaming. 

Becca tries to drag him back, but he sprints to Grizz and slides to his knees. Snow soaks through his pants, but he doesn’t care. He cups Grizz’s freezing face in his hands. Grizz’s eyes flutter open; his lips move weakly as his hand finds Sam’s. 

Sam’s vision blurs. He imagines himself, with startling clarity, picking up a gun, walking across town, and shooting Campell right between the eyes. He’ll do it. He  _ can  _ do it. He will do it. He realizes this as Grizz’s hand goes slack and falls from his. Campbell isn’t the only Elliot capable of being a monster. 

Becca taps on his arm. “Sam…” 

He looks up. Luke sprints across the bridge and skids to a stop, staring at Grizz. His chest heaves as he presses his hands to his forehead. Sam clutches Grizz's shirt, but meets Luke’s eyes. Snow falls between them, slow at first, then more quickly, like the sky is weeping. 

“I’m gonna get a truck,” Luke says. “And I’m gonna get Clark and Jason. We’re gonna take him back to your place. Becca, you’ll call Gordie and Kelly. Keep him alive.”

And suddenly, Luke is in charge.

Sam lays his coat over Grizz’s chest, despite Becca’s protests. When he notices that he’s barefoot, he wraps his scarf around one foot, and Becca’s scarf around the other. He holds Grizz’s hands in his own and tries to warm them. He tries to stop the blood flow as Becca talks on the phone. The cold becomes a living thing, trying to drag Sam down into an abyss. 

_ He’s going to die _ , the wind whispers. _ You’re going to lose him _ . 

Aloud, Sam says, “You’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay.”

Grizz doesn’t move. 

Luke returns with the truck—the vehicle has barely skidded to a stop before he’s leaping out, blankets slung over his shoulder, Clark and Jason behind him. They freeze at the sight of Grizz sprawled on the ground, but Luke pushes them on. Becca pulls Sam away gently so the Guard can lift Grizz. When they do, the snow is stained red. 

“Clark and Jason, you guys ride in the back,” Luke says. “Becca, Sam, in the backseat with Grizz, okay?” 

He’s the quarterback, Sam thinks, finally calling the plays now that it may be too late. He stays crouched in the snow, glaring at him.

Luke sighs. “Get in the truck, Sam.” 

Sam shakes his head. He’ll walk. He  _ will  _ fucking walk. Luke had a part in getting them into this mess—he doesn’t get to swoop in and play the hero now. 

“Not for me,” Luke says. “For Grizz. Get in.” 

“Come on.” Becca drags Sam to his feet and pulls him toward the truck. They’re barely in, tucked beside Grizz’s prone form, when Luke takes off. “I’m sorry,” Becca signs. Her hands shake. “I’m so sorry. He’ll be okay, love.”

Sam sobs into her shoulder. 

#

They put him on Becca’s kitchen table. Gordie and Kelly are waiting there.

Sam’s vision is blurry, from tears, from anger, from everything in between. He vaguely registers bodies moving around the table, but it isn’t until Becca squeezes his hand hard enough to crack his fingers does he focus. 

The room is crowded. Becca is at Sam’s side, her hand firmly wrapped around his. Gordie and Kelly are hunched over Grizz, heads bowed together; Luke, Clark, and Jason are backed against the countertop. Luke presses the heels of his hands against his forehead, eyes reddened. Anger surges through Sam. 

_ How dare you?  _ he wants to scream. 

Luke has no right to be afraid. Not when his actions helped bring him here. 

“Okay,” Kelly says. She looked directly at Sam so he could read her lips. “Nothing vital is hit, and he’s still breathing. We have to get the bullets out, though.” Her gaze turns to Gordie. 

“Yeah, um, the bullets.” Gordie bites his lip. “But we don’t have anesthesia, and we can’t go to the hospital to get it. We’ll have to do it just like this.”

“He’ll feel it,” Sam says. “It’ll hurt him.”

“Not to be this person,” Kelly says. “But it will hurt a hell of a lot less than the bullets. Luke, Clark, Jason. I need you guys to hold him down.”

Their faces shift—Jason’s twists, Clark’s eyes widened, and Luke… Luke looks broken. They all look to Kelly, as if seeking confirmation. 

“I am about to dig three bullets out of his body,” she snaps. “If you guys don’t hold him down, he’s going to hurt himself even more.”

“Oh, man…” Luke runs a hand through his hair. His eyes flick over Grizz’s pale, bloody form. “I don’t know if I can…” 

“You can,” Sam blurts. “And you will.” 

“Man, why do you think you have a right to tell us what to do?” Jason snaps.

_ Because I’m his boyfriend _ , Sam wants to say. But he can’t. He can’t take that from Grizz. 

Luke, though, is looking at him strangely. Almost sadly. Almost like he knows. Luke is smarter than people realize, Sam thinks. He could’ve noticed myriad things about Grizz that changed in the past months. 

Jason and Clark hold his leg. Luke situates himself behind Grizz’s head, holding his shoulders and arms. Kelly and Gordie begin taking out shiny medical tools Sam has only seen on shows like  _ Grey’s Anatomy.  _ His heart pounds.

Becca pulls a chair away from the table and guides Sam into it. “Don’t look,” she signs. She kneels in front of me. “Don’t look at them, Sam. Just look at me, okay? He’ll be okay.” 

For a moment, it’s tempting. It would be easy to sit, his eyes closed, and wait for someone to tell him that Grizz is okay. But he can’t choose easy—he can’t leave Grizz alone. 

He stands. Moves to the table’s edge. Watches as they cut Grizz open, gloved hands coated in blood, and reach into his chest. At first, Grizz is still. 

Then, he begins to thrash.

Luke’s face screws up with effort as he keeps Grizz pinned against the table. Kelly’s hair falls from its ponytail as she twists with Grizz’s movement; she wipes an arm across her face to tuck it behind her ear, and smears her forehead with blood. She begins to cry as she works.

Sam can’t watch anymore. 

He turns around, his eyes closed. It should’ve been him on that table, he thinks, him that Campbell shot. It was him that Campbell wanted, anyways, and he was too cowardly. 

A tap comes at his shoulder.

“Come here,” Gordie signs. “I need you to calm him down.” 

Sam’s stomach twists. On the table, Grizz pants, sweat rolling down his pale face; his eyes dart around the room, wild and erratic. The Guard has backed away, and Kelly’s speaking quickly, but it doesn’t calm him. Grizz’s lips keep moving, forming the same word over and over.

_ Campbell.  _

Sam doesn’t trust himself to reply without breaking down. He hoists himself onto the table and pulls Grizz’s head into his lap, wiping Grizz’s damp hair from his face. The Guard gives him strange looks, but Sam is past caring. 

“Grizz,” he murmurs. “Grizz, look at me.” 

“Campbell,” Grizz says again.

“I know.”

“Hurts.” Grizz scrunches his nose. “It hurts so bad. Gonna die.”

Sam freezes. He has to say something.  _ Anything _ . But he can’t bring himself to move his hands, can’t bring himself to speak. 

So it’s Luke who comes to Grizz’s side, holding up a hand to Sam. “Hey, man,” Luke says, turning Grizz’s face toward him. “Stop being dramatic. You’re not gonna die.”

Grizz moans again. “It  _ hurts _ .”

“Yeah, and you were always a little bitch when something hurt. Remember when that meathead from Riverside broke your arm last game sophomore year? You told me you were gonna die then, too.” 

Grizz, impossibly, chuckles. “My bone… was not in my arm.”

“Bro, the doctors put it back in,” Clark chimes in. “And then we smoked a fuckton of weed. We can do that after Kelly and Gordie puts the blood back in your body and shit.” 

“They did, didn’t they?” Grizz’s eyelids flutter shut. “My chest hurts.”

“Grizz,” Sam says. 

“Grizz, man, you gotta stay with us,” Luke adds. 

“Sam.” Grizz whimpers. “Sam, I’m really scared. My chest hurts. I can’t breathe.” 

“Kelly,” Sam says, as calmly as he can. He runs his hands through Grizz’s hair. “You’ll be okay,” he murmurs to Grizz. He runs his hands through Grizz’s hair gently. “You’ll be okay.”

Grizz trembles. “Doesn’t hurt so bad, now. Think I’m okay.” He looks into Sam’s eyes, plaintive and open, then signs shakily, “I really, really love you.” 

His eyes flutter shut. 

Kelly and Gordie push past the Guard to the table. Their hands move in a flurry, but Sam only cares about Grizz’s unsteady breaths. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. Neither Kelly nor Gordie speak. “What’s  _ wrong _ ?”

“Oh, God,” Gordie says. “Oh, my God. Kelly, his lung collapsed. It’s collapsed.”

#

Sam can’t breathe. People around him are moving, likely talking, but Gordie’s words are burned into his mind, looping over and over.

_ His lung collapsed _ .

This was usually the point on  _ Grey’s Anatomy  _ where someone died. 

He stumbles off the table, blood coating his hands. Grizz is going to die, he thinks. This is it. His brother, who was in charge of this bullshit’s world legal system, will have killed his boyfriend, and Sam won’t be able to do anything about it. He stands alone—Becca is at Kelly’s side, handing her tools—and tries not to think about burying Grizz.

Suddenly, Luke meets his eyes. They stare at each other for a moment, then, jaw clenched, Luke strides across the room. Jason and Clark move to follow, but Luke waves them off. He grabs Sam’s arm, pulling him down the hall into the bathroom, and shuts the door. 

“You don’t need to see that,” Luke says. “I know. He told me.” 

“Told you what?” Sam asked. 

Luke’s face clouds. “It’s bad enough that this is happening to my best friend, but fuck, I don’t know what I’d do if it was Helena on that table.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. Luke doesn’t seem to know either, because he turns on the tap and starts scrubbing the blood away. It’s only then does Sam look at himself, from his fingers to his forearms. He’s covered in fucking blood.  _ Grizz’s  _ blood. He feels like he’s choking, and he must have made a noise, because Luke turns to him, eyes sad. 

“Wash your hands,” Luke says. 

Sam can’t think of a reason to protest. 

He scrubs. Some of the blood is dried and won’t come off. 

“It’s never gonna come out,” he says. 

“Soap,” Luke says. 

_ It’s never gonna come out.  _ Sam realizes what he truly means. Even if they make it back to their own universe, everything that happened here, in New Ham, will stain them. Luke will always know what it means to restrain his best friend. Gordie and Kelly will always remember digging bullets out of a living person without anesthesia. Grizz will have scars. And Sam—

Sam will remember. He’ll remember finding his boyfriend bleeding out in the snow; he’ll remember holding him, and he’ll remember blood coating his hands. He’ll know that his brother is capable of murder. Maybe the legal system over there will catch up with Campbell. Maybe it won’t. Either way, he’ll spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop, afraid to walk alone, afraid to—

“Hey.” Luke waves his hand in front of Sam’s face. “ _ Soap _ . Lots of it.”

Sam scrubs his hands with soap. They go from red to pink to blush, as if he’d merely gotten a sunburn that would fade with time. 

#

Sam sits next to Luke on the bathroom floor because he can’t go back out there. Maybe that makes him a coward, but he can’t. Becca will get him when Grizz is stable or dead.

So he sits. 

Luke taps his shoulder. “He noticed you before, you know. In high school.” 

Sam raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I didn’t really put two and two together, but he noticed you. He was always talking about how smart you were. How nice. Especially after the Columbia thing.” 

“I noticed him, too. He was always different than you guys.”

Luke laughs. “God, you’re telling me. You know I thought he was trying to get with Helena before I did?”

It’s Sam’s turn to chuckle.

“Turns out he was talking me up to her.  _ Fuck _ .” Luke rubs his hands over his face. “He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay, right?” 

Nothing  _ has  _ to happen, Sam wants to say. If the past months have taught him anything, it’s that. Nothing is guaranteed. 

He doesn’t say as much to Luke. 

#

Sam sits on the bathroom floor and wonders if he’s cursed. 

A psychopath brother. One cousin dead, the other missing. His boyfriend hovering between life and death. It makes him want to put Becca in bubble wrap. 

He remembers Allie telling him, once, that she’d pray that death took her rather than Cassandra.  _ My life for hers _ , she’d said. 

_ My life for his _ , he thinks. He turns it into a prayer, then thinks it over and over. 

#

Sam sits on the bathroom floor and imagines the worst: Grizz dies. 

They’ll have to dig another grave. Sam will insist on helping. They can’t get to the coffins, so he’ll be wrapped in a sheet, and that will be that. Campbell will think he can get away with anything. He might come after Becca. 

“We’ll have to leave his body,” Sam says. “If we find our way back home. I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

But he won’t be alone, Sam thinks. 

Emily.

Cassandra.

Dewey. 

“He’s not dead,” Luke replied.

They sit in silence for a long time before Sam asks, “Is he screaming?” 

“Yeah,” Luke says. “Yeah, I can hear him.”

Sam considers Luke’s exhausted eyes and slumped shoulders. “You’re lying.” 

Luke won’t meet his eye. Sam appreciates the attempt—screaming means alive.

Silence could mean anything. 

#

Hours pass. 

Finally, the bathroom door opens. Gordie stands in the foyer, covered in blood and sweat. He’s been crying, Sam can tell. 

“We think he’s stable,” Gordie signs. “We have to keep watching, but we think he’s stable. He’s breathing on his own, and really, that’s all I can ask for.” 

Sam slumps against the countertop. He’s so relieved that he could cry, but he feels so wrung out emotionally that tears won’t come. He doesn’t quite know if he believes Gordie.

“Let’s go see him,” Luke says. 

They have to walk through the kitchen. Sam immediately wants to vomit. Blood is splattered over every surface, an inhuman amount of blood that all came out of Grizz’s body. Becca, Kelly, Clark, and Jason scrub at it, fiercely and without looking up. 

Gordie pulls Sam past them, into Becca’s spare bedroom. Grizz, eyes closed, is resting on the bed. Someone washed the blood from his hair, and his chest is neatly bandaged. Sam sits on the edge of the bed and takes his hand, holding it as tightly as he dares. 

He’s alive, he thinks. 

Against all odds, he’s alive. 

#

Grizz comes to in hazy waves. Voices float in and out, as gentle as a tide; he drifts, senseless, until he floats to the surface. 

He blinks.

Everything returns to him in a rush. The wine cellar. The car. The snow. Campbell with a gun. He gasps for air, feeling like a linebacker is sitting on his chest.

“Easy, dude, easy.” Someone holds him as he coughs, then helps him lay down again. Grizz looks up.

It’s Luke.

“You have to take it easy, or else you’re going to majorly fuck up your stitches,” Luke says, like everything is normal—like they regularly talk about fucking up stitches. 

“Bro,” Grizz says. “I got fucking bodied.”

Luke exhales. “You’re telling me. Your fucking lung collapsed, bro.” 

He closes his eyes. “Campbell. He bragging?”

“I don’t know.” Luke bites his lip. “I haven’t seen him in days. Jason and Clark are here, too. We’re… we’re done. Campbell hasn’t come for us yet, though. I think… I think he thinks that you’re dead. We’re gonna let him keep thinking that.” 

It’s a lot. Grizz wants to go back to sleep, but then, he remembers.

“Sam,” he says. 

Luke nods toward the corner of the room. Sam is curled up on a makeshift bed, brow knotted even in sleep. He looks like a mess, a couple days of beard growing in, his clothes rumpled. 

“He hasn’t left your room,” Luke says. “He wanted me to wake him up when you came to, but he hasn’t slept in days, and…”

“Wake him up,” Grizz says. He’s being selfish, because Sam should sleep. But he has to see him, has to talk to him. “Gently,” Grizz adds. “Don’t shake him.”

He rests against the pillows, aching. There’s a rustle in the corner of the room, and then Sam is next to him, grabbing his hands, kissing him. Tears fall onto Grizz’s cheeks, and when Sam pulls away, Grizz can see the naked fear written across Sam’s face. 

“I’m okay.” He wipes away Sam’s tears, even though it hurts him to raise his arm. “Look, look, I’m okay.” 

He motions for Luke to leave, giving him a thumbs up. They’ll talk later. Now, it’s about Sam. Luke smiles and closes the door softly. 

“I’m okay,” Grizz signs. Sam keeps crying. “We’re okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers. “He wouldn’t have hurt you if—”

“We’re not doing that. No blame.” 

Sam sniffles. Grizz hates seeing him cry, hates that it’s because of him. He wants to be able to sweep him into a bone-crushing hug. All he has now, though, is his words. 

That will be enough.

“I love you,” he says aloud. Then he signs it. “I mean it.” 

Sam kisses him, then signs, “I love you, too.”

#

_ I love you. _

_ I love you. _

_ I love you.  _

Sam doesn’t know how to say how afraid he was, how many hours he passed sure that Grizz was going to die.  _ I love you  _ has to be enough, so he says it over and over, until Grizz flushes red and smiles in a way that’s usually only for when he’s high. 

Only when Grizz falls back asleep does Sam allow himself to worry. They may both be alive, safe for now, but this isn’t over.

Not yet.

#

The next time Grizz wakes up, Luke, Clark, and Jason are there.

“Grizzy, baby!” Clark whoops. “Look at you, man, surviving three gunshot wounds like a badass, let’s go!”

“Whoa.” Grizz squints. “Dial to the left. Volume down. Head hurts.”

“ _ Grizzyyyyyyy,”  _ Jason whispers. “Bad. Ass.”

“I told them to be normal,” Luke said miserably. He sits on the edge of the bed and pats Grizz’s calf. “But hopefully the non-normal will put some hair back on your chest.”

“Ah,” Grizz says. 

“But, look, we came here to apologize,” Luke continues. “We really fucked up.  _ All  _ of us.”

“Yeah, man,” Clark chimes in. “Like, it was fun and cool at first, because I never got to be in charge of anything, but then my insides hurt all the time.”

Jason scuffs his foot against the ground. “We didn’t expect Campbell to do this.” 

Grizz has protests. Lots of them. He saw the fervor with which Jason and Clark leaned into their new roles. He saw how quickly Luke crumbled under pressure. Yet these are his friends. His team. He wants them by his side. 

“We’re sorry,” Luke says quietly. “We want to be on the same team again.”

Grizz nods. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Let’s try it.” 

They all grin and break into chatter, stories about the past few weeks, high school, and even before that. Grizz chimes in when he can, and when he gets tired, Luke tells Jason and Clark that they should let him rest.

“Okay, dude, but before we go, one last question,” Clark says. “Now that you’re into dudes, who’s the hottest?” 

“Bro, he’s not gonna tell us, he’s into Sam,” Jason snaps. Then he grins. “But it’s me.” 

“Nope,” Grizz says, grinning. “None of you.”

“But if you  _ had  _ to choose,” Clark says.

Grizz nudges his leg against Luke’s side. “Lukey, then.”

Their jaws fall, and Luke fist pumps, victorious.

Grizz feels like something has been repaired. 

#

Sam thinks they were treating the revolution like a game, like it was something they could win. It isn’t. Not at all. 

Lives are at stake, and they need a change in strategy. 

“Get the others here,” Sam says to Becca. “We all need to talk.”

#

Grizz manages to get to the bathroom alone and undo his bandages. He knows Kelly and Gordie will kill him, but he has to see.

He looks at himself in the mirror for the first time in a week. 

The wound in his shoulder is the deepest, with the most marks around it—Kelly and Gordie must have struggled to get the bullet out. Then there’s the wound in his side, and the other opposite his heart, over the lung that collapsed. The final one is where Kelly and Gordie had to reinflate his lung—he doesn’t even know how they did that, and frankly, doesn’t want to.

He’s never been particularly caught up in his appearance, but he thinks of how terrible the scars will be, and a lump rises in his throat. He feels weak, emotionally and physically. With football, athleticism and physicality always came easily; now, taking a deep breath feels like an entire workout. It makes him want to sob. 

His entire body trembles with the effort of holding in his tears. 

“Hey.” Sam comes into the bathroom like a hurricane. “Why are you out of bed, what are you—” He stops when he sees Grizz’s expression. “Let’s lay down, okay?”

Sam helps him to the bed. He rebandages Grizz’s chest carefully, his touch feather-light, then helps him lay down. 

“There are gonna be scars,” Grizz signs. “Really bad scars.” 

Sam nods. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you into scarred dudes?” 

“I’m into you,” Sam signs. 

“I’ll probably have issues with mobility and shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.” 

Sam’s brow furrows. “Okay. Then you shouldn’t have to deal with me being deaf.”

Grizz blinks. “What?”

“It’s too much work for you to have to learn sign language and adapt to how I live.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Now you know how stupid you sound.” 

Grizz understands what he’s trying to do—he appreciates it, even. Still, the ache persists. “Sam…” He scrunches his nose and closes his eyes until he’s sure he’s not going to cry. “I feel like I lost something. I feel like he took something.”

“Yeah.” Sam doesn’t try to give him empty platitudes. Grizz appreciates that. “But you didn’t lose me. I’m right here, and I’m…” His hands falter before he signs, “I was so scared. And I’m so thankful. That you fought. That you’re alive. I’m here with you.”

There’s a lump in Grizz’s throat. “Will you lay down with me?” he asks.

Sam smiles gently. He lays down and pulls Grizz into his arms, careful not to agitate any of his wounds. For the first time in days, perhaps, Grizz feels safe.

#

Gordie, Bean, Mickey, Becca, Kelly, Gwen, Sam. This time, Luke, Clark, and Jason are here, too. Grizz has managed to put on a shirt for the first time in days, which feels like an achievement alone. Everyone looks to Grizz. He looks to Sam before beginning to speak. 

“I survived a psychopath shooting me,” he says, signing as he speaks. “And I  _ survived.  _ I’m the lucky one. Three people have died because we can’t get our shit together. This place has taken our friends. It’s taken almost a year of our lives. It’s taken our hope, our humanity, and  _ fuck _ , we’re living under made-up rules that put us all in danger every day with a maniac in charge.”

He inhales.  _ Here goes nothing.  _

“Sometimes, you stay and fight,” Grizz says. “Sometimes you get the fuck out. My official proposal for the revolution is that we get the fuck out of here. We’ll go live on the land we found, and we’ll figure out how to get back to our universe.”

Murmurs travel the table. Grizz bounces his leg nervously until Luke says, “Seconded.” 

“Third.” Becca.

“Fourth.” Clark.

Everyone else affirms the idea. Finally, Grizz looks to Sam. 

“What do you think?” he signs.

A smile splits Sam’s face. “Let’s get the fuck out.” 

#

Sam thinks about confronting Campbell, considers it as he lays down next to Grizz. It would almost be worth it, to scream at his brother and threaten him. But he thinks of the emotional energy it would take. What would he get from it?

He’s not a monster. Not at all. 

He won’t stoop to Campbell’s level.

His brother has no hold over him. 

#

They spread the word to those they know would be interested. Time to abandon ship. 

And as soon as the ground thaws, they all run. 

They go in waves so as not to be caught. Grizz can’t make it all the way through the woods on foot, and neither can Becca, with Eden, so Clark drives them in the truck, with Kelly there for medical emergencies. Sam feels alone without them, but less so when Luke and Kelly come to accompany him. Luke extends his hand for a fistbumb.

Sam meets him halfway with a grin. 

They make it through the woods without incident, and Grizz and Becca are waiting for him. Sam kisses Grizz in front of everyone, and when he pulls away, Grizz is smiling. He motions to the land. 

“Anything the sun touches belongs to Eden,” Grizz says. 

Sam chuckles. “And what about me?”

“Yeah, I suppose you can have some, too.” Grizz kisses him again, soft and slow, then signs, “We’re going to be okay out here.”

#

“It isn’t about fighting them,” Sam says as they all sit around a fire. It’s warm in a way that feels sustainable, not uncomfortable. Everyone has come, and they’ve pitched tents, pooled their food supplies. For now, they’re okay. “This doesn’t need to be a war. We just have to find our way home. There has to be a way.  _ That’s  _ our revolution right there.” 

He looks at the people surrounding him. Becca and Eden. Luke and Helena. Clark and Jason. Gordie, Bean, and Kelly. Elle. Others. Allie and Will are out there, too, and once they find them, they can all start to plan to find a way home. And Grizz. Grizz is at his side, sitting upright on his own for the first time in days. 

Alive. Only by the skin of his teeth, but still alive. 

“Well.” Grizz smiles and takes Sam’s hand. “Viva la revolution.”    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTES: ongoing discussion of murder; Grizz is shot; treatment of the wounds is described, including a description of a collapsed lung; themes consistent with those of the show. Grizz does NOT die, though!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed! Please leave me comments if you feel so inclined -- I really love hearing from people. You can also come to me on tumblr (@such-geekiness) to chat about anything, but especially Society (if provoked, I can and will discuss my season 2 hopes). Everyone stay safe and healthy!

**Author's Note:**

> To end with, an obligatory please stay safe, and please stay inside. We have to protect each other right now. I'm such-geekiness on tumblr if you want to chat with me about the society or anything else!!


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